


blue

by agni_kai



Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cock Worship, Collars, Deepthroating, Fluff and Smut, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Marriage Proposal, a lil hint of bakodao for the folks on discord, betrothal necklaces are not a southern thing, but that doesn't mean sokka can't make one anyway, first half: smut, necklaces that are occasionally utilised in a D/s capacity, second half: proposal fic, well sort of, which was not intentional but here we are, yes that does mean Bato/Hakoda/Piandao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agni_kai/pseuds/agni_kai
Summary: Day 14:NTR|Face-sitting|CollaringReminders of how much Sokka means to him aren'tnecessary, Zuko supposes, but they're nice to have."You get to wear or use something every day that your beloved made for you, that shows how much they love you, and-” He traces his fingertips along Zuko's throat. “I don't think a random piece of ribbon I bought quite measures up to the standards the tribe expects, but I suppose it's got the same meaning behind it.”
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950004
Comments: 34
Kudos: 359
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	blue

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up kind of a long way off from the original prompt - I had _betrothal necklace as collar_ in my head, then was promptly thwarted by the canon of necklaces being Northern, my own headcanon of Southern betrothal gifts, and the fact that none of my Zukka characterisations have them in a straight-up D/s relationship where being collared day-to-day would make sense. I always write them both as switch and vers to varying degrees.  
>   
> So then _this_ all happened, I guess, with a lot of grappling with my brain to get there. It took longer than it should have, given that I knew where I wanted it to end up, and I'm not particularly happy with the ending, but it's going out into the big wide world anyway.

It's during a meeting that Sokka finally notices it, and Zuko realises it immediately.  
  
Most people can't see their tells, the way Zuko comforts him with a look when he trips over his words during a speech, the way Zuko is comforted in turn when one of his ministers is getting a little too loud. That's reassuring, because it hopefully means that no-one can see how Sokka's eyes fix on his wrist and instantly darken with lust, or the way that Zuko forces down a blush and tucks both hands back under the table.  
  
Sokka doesn't corner him afterwards, like Zuko had thought he would - but then, this isn't something that they would ever talk about where people could see. He doesn't mention it all through dinner, although Zuko can see him sneaking glances and the conversation is more stilted than usual, as though they're both distracted. The servants probably think they've argued or something.  
  
“Give me your hand,” Sokka tells him once the door to their rooms has closed behind them, quiet but insistent.  
  
Zuko bites his lip but silently extends his hand, letting Sokka take it and push his sleeve up.  
  
“I thought so,” Sokka says, turning his hand over to examine the ribbon wrapped around his wrist. “This is the same one, isn't is?” Zuko nods, and Sokka presses a kiss to the knot of the ribbon. “Use your words, baby.”  
  
“Yes,” Zuko says softly. “Yeah, it's the same one.”  
  
“And what's it doing here instead of next to the bed?”  
  
Zuko tries not to fidget, but it's hard when Sokka is _this close_ to him. “You weren't in the same meetings as me this morning, and...it helped. To feel like you were there with me. A little bit.”  
  
“It helped a little, or you felt like I was there a little?”  
  
“The second one. It, uh-” Zuko instinctively rubs the ribbon again, fingers slipping across the soft satin. “It helped a lot.”  
  
Sokka's deft fingers unknot the ribbon, and Zuko shivers as it slides over his skin. It's a wider ribbon than the one he uses to tie his hair up, soft satin, a rich cobalt blue.  
  
It had started, sort of, back when Zuko had been visiting the South and Sokka had spent far too much time gazing dreamily at him and saying that Zuko looks pretty in blue.  
  
_“Are you sure you're not just saying that because you found out I was the Blue Spirit after already telling all of your friends that seeing the Blue Spirit's ass while he was climbing a wall was a sexual awakening?”_  
  
_“Yes, Zuko, I am_ absolutely _sure that it's not because of that.”_ _  
_  
At some point after getting back, halfway through simultaneously getting ready for bed and unpacking gifts from the South and trying not to spend too much time making out, Sokka had laughingly looped the beaded sash he was holding around the back of Zuko's neck, pulling him in closer for a kiss and then sitting back and admiring him.  
  
“You are _so_ pretty in blue.”  
  
Zuko could feel himself blushing furiously, feeling the obscure urge to cover his bare chest despite having been together for...shit, a good few years at that point.  
  
“Like, sure, you're pretty as fuck when you're naked, but... I don't know. Is it because it's my nation's colours or is it because it just suits you?”  
  
It had turned out that Sokka clearly thought the combination of naked _and_ just a touch of blue was even prettier, because he'd left the sash draped around Zuko's neck while he'd stripped him, and then had proceeded to draw some truly mortifying noises out of him by using it to manhandle him.  
  
Look, it's not like Zuko hadn't already known at that point that he was so, _so_ easy for Sokka. He'd known that all too well, to an embarrassing extent.  
  
But there was just something about Sokka wrapping the ends of the sash around his fist as Zuko rode him, using it to drag him down and hold him still while Sokka braced his feet against the bed and fucked him _senseless_ , that. Well. Really, _really_ did it for both of them.  
  
The problem came when they were both exhausted and gasping for breath, Zuko flopping down and burying his face into Sokka's neck, and Sokka easing him up and turning him onto his back so he could unwind the sash.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“What's _that_ supposed to mean?” Zuko had grumbled, and tilted his head up to let Sokka trace delicate fingertips across his throat.  
  
“The beading was, uh. Probably not a great idea.”  
  
The rash and abrasions - none of which Zuko had even noticed in the moment - had taken days to fade, and the way the beads had tangled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck hadn't been great either.  
  
Still, it was only a few days later that Sokka had presented him with a soft ribbon, wide enough that it wouldn't pinch or bruise, sturdy enough to stand up to tugging, dark blue and free from embellishments.  
  
“You seemed to like it, before,” Sokka had said, as nervous as he always was when he introduced something for the first time. “So I was wondering-”  
  
And now it is, if not a staple, at least a regular feature for when Zuko wants to get ordered around just that bit more. Sometimes grabbed off the bedside table to be looped around his waist or neck to be tugged closer, sometimes casual, but sometimes-  
  
Sometimes it's for when he wants to feel like _Sokka's_. Wearing his boyfriend's colours and nothing else, letting himself be controlled. It's just what he _needs_ , sometimes.  
  
And if he couldn't have Sokka during a meeting, during a stressful moment that he'd really rather not be in charge of, having it around his wrist like that was a nice little reminder that at the end of this, he's Sokka's. At the end of all of this, he can go back to their rooms and _stop thinking_. Not all the time, not every day, but when he needs it.  
  
He explains all of this, haltingly and trying not to say anything stupid.  
  
“It's not even that I want you to be in charge tonight, particularly. It's not about the sex. I mean, not all the time. It's just...a _reminder_. That when I _do_ need that, you'll be there. I don't- I might not be explaining very well-”  
  
“Yeah, I get it.” Sokka presses little kisses against the top of his head. “I get it, baby. I don't need much of a reminder when I spend most of the time here with you, but whenever I leave I always have your letters in my pocket. Reminders are nice.”  
  
He pulls the ribbon taut between his hands and looks questioningly at Zuko, and he nods. “I don't want anything major tonight, it's been a long day, but...yeah. Yes. Please.”  
  
Sokka loops the ribbon around the back of his neck, just like he always does, and pulls him closer for a kiss, then wraps it a couple of times and tucks the ends in neatly, wedging his fingers under it to check for breathing room. It fits two fingers easily, but Zuko can feel it tighten around his throat as he swallows.  
  
“Good?”  
  
“Mhm.”  
  
“Words,” Sokka reminds him again, and Zuko just rolls his eyes at him. “Brat,” Sokka says affectionately, and tugs him over to the bed. “You've gotta tell me what you want.”  
  
Zuko automatically opens his mouth to say “Fuck me,” because he _always_ wants that, but. He's still kind of sore from last night, and Sokka always gets quietly upset when he realises that Zuko is suppressing any little noises of pain, and he doesn't want to make Sokka sad.  
  
Instead he squirms closer into the circle of Sokka's arms and brushes his lips against his throat. “Can I blow you?”  
  
He pulls back to look up from under his lashes, and Sokka makes a slightly shaky noise and pulls Zuko's crown free to weave his fingers into his hair.  
  
“Fuck yeah, baby. Of course you can. How do you want me to get you off after? Can I eat you out?”  
  
“Do you even need to _ask_?” Zuko protests, but raises his arms for Sokka to finish stripping his robes and leaving him just in a thin white loincloth and a cobalt-blue ribbon choker, a fact that his boyfriend clearly appreciates. “Sit down,” Zuko tells him when it becomes clear that Sokka is just going to stand and stare and grin stupidly.  
  
He drops to his knees between Sokka's feet once he's wrangled off everything down his own loincloth, pushing his thighs open and nuzzling into the crook of his hip, inhaling contentedly.  
  
“Zuko-” Sokka's voice cracks and the hand tightens in his hair.  
  
Zuko ignores him. He's going to take his fucking _time_ with this, because he kept his sanity through a particularly trying argument that day by planning a probably-impossible morning where he has nothing to do but sit at Sokka's feet and take as much time with his cock as he likes. He knows full well that the likelihood of there being a day that the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador has enough work to keep him at a desk but the Fire Lord has nothing to do other than suck his boyfriend's dick... Well. It's unlikely to ever happen. But maybe he can pretend.  
  
Zuko holds down Sokka's hips as he mouths at him through the thin linen and nips at the inside of his thigh, grinning at the way he hisses. He hums as he closes his lips around Sokka's bulge and teases at him with his tongue, tilting his head to look up and meet his eyes. Spirits, Sokka already looks wrecked. There's a dark flush high on his cheeks, his hair half-pulled loose from his wolftail with how he's been grabbing at it, presumably as a replacement for thrusting up against Zuko's mouth.  
  
“C'mon, Zuko,” he whines, tangling his fingers into dark hair again and pulling his head back down. “Stop being such a _tease_ , baby, let me feel you, please-”  
  
“No,” Zuko tells him, thrilling with the power of it. “I want to take my time.”  
  
Sokka groans and falls back against the bed, and Zuko smiles against his skin and goes back to enjoying himself, slow and lazy and indulgent. Even so, it's not too long before he gets greedy and pulls Sokka's loincloth loose, bracing one forearm across his hips and the other over the tops of his thighs to keep him from thrusting up into Zuko's mouth as he parts his lips around the head.  
  
He loves gagging on Sokka's cock, he really does, but sometimes, if he goes slowly and with his head at just the right angle-  
  
Zuko's eyes flutter open again as he bottoms out, nose bumping against Sokka's stomach, arms straining with the effort of holding him down as Sokka's fingers scrabble at his hair and grip tight.  
  
“Fuck, Zuko, baby, holy _fuck_ -”  
  
Zuko moans around him, breathing shallowly through his nose and refusing to pull back. He feels so full, Sokka's cock resting heavy across his tongue and down his throat, gag reflex under control for now. Fuck, he could stay here for _hours_.  
  
One of Sokka's hands leaves his hair and moves down, swiping away the watering in the corners of his eyes and the spit gathering on his chin that he can't swallow, and then slips lower to rub across the soft ribbon. Zuko moans again, muffled, almost a whine, and Sokka wraps his hand around his throat and squeezes just slightly.  
  
“Fuck, baby, I can _feel_ my cock in you, you're so _good_ for me-” He reaches for Zuko's hand where it's clenched against his thigh. “I'm not gonna move, sweetheart, I'm not gonna choke you, promise, I just want you to feel-”  
  
He guides Zuko's hand up to his own neck, fingers interlaced so he can press them against his throat, and okay, yes, that's- That's Sokka.  
  
That's fucking _hot_ , is what that is.  
  
Zuko hums contentedly around him, flattening his palm against Sokka's hip to feel the way his muscles are tensed with the effort of not choking him. His throat is going to be a mess tomorrow, but it's worth it for _this_ , Sokka coming to pieces above him, babbling praise, begging him, and he's heady with the power he can have just by being on his knees and barely moving.  
  
“Please, sweetheart, _Zuko_ , please just move, I need to feel you, c'mon-”  
  
Zuko shifts his free hand, the one not pinning Sokka down, and fumbles open the ties on his loincloth, pulling himself free. His hand is hot and dry, almost painful with how oversensitised he already feels, and he holds his hand out to Sokka, palm up, meeting his eyes.  
  
“Holy fuck, you want me to-?” Zuko blinks away the way his eyes are watering and lifts his hand higher, and Sokka bites his lip and audibly swallows and, not breaking eye contact, spits into Zuko's palm. The whimper that breaks free must reverberate through Sokka, because he groans again and twists his fingers painfully hard into Zuko's hair. “Tui and La, Zuko, _baby_. How are you this _perfect_?”  
  
Zuko shifts to brace his knees wider, screwing his eyes closed and forcing down the urge to gag at the movement, and gets his hand around himself, relaxing into the sensation the best he can. He's so _full_ , Sokka's rambling praise all around him, the hands in his hair, his own hand on his cock - the only thing that could possibly make this better is to have something filling him properly, a plug as second-best to Sokka's fingers or cock. Next time.  
  
The thought of a _next time_ , of being on his knees for Sokka over and over, makes him shudder, thumb dragging over his head, and it distracts him enough that he _does_ gag this time. Sokka gasps above him, hips jerking, and the fingers tangled in his hair drag his head back, but Zuko pulls himself back down again, shifting his bracing arm to pull himself flush against Sokka's body.  
  
His lungs are burning from what feels like an eternity of shallow breaths and he - distantly, through a haze - realises he won't be able to keep the same relaxed-open throat he had before, he should probably pull back, but it feels so _good_ -  
  
Sokka's strangled whine of “ _Zuko_ -” is what tips him over the edge, curling in on himself, digging his fingers into Sokka's back to force his body to stay down instead of arching back as he cums, and-  
  
Sokka drags his head back again and Zuko has no choice but to go with it this time, coughing desperately, and Sokka splutters frantic apologies as he grabs his discarded loincloth and wipes at the cum on his face.  
  
“Fuck, baby, I'm so sorry, I always warn you but I didn't even _realise_ I was about to- Drink this-”  
  
Zuko takes a shaky sip of the water pressed into his hands and shifts awkwardly until he can sit with his cheek pressed against Sokka's thigh, turning his head to kiss the bare skin.  
  
“'s fine,” he says, and winces at how _terrible_ his voice sounds.  
  
Sokka presses kisses into his hair and eases Zuko's weight off his leg and against the bed. “I'll go send for tea before that gets any worse, yeah?”  
  
He waits for Zuko's tiny nod before grabbing a robe and heading out into the other room, and he can hear a door open and the murmuring of voices, Sokka asking for green tea. Fuck, he's glad that he'd managed to persuade palace security that he could just have guards at the external doors rather than within his suite of rooms.  
  
Sokka comes back, discarding the robe as he does so, and reaches down. “Let's get you into bed, c'mon.” Zuko tries to help, but he's pretty sure that Sokka is hoisting a dead weight off the floor and into their bed, wiping the cum off his stomach and thighs before tucking him under the blankets.  
  
“I'm so sorry I didn't manage to warn you-”  
  
“Seriously. It's _fine_.” Zuko grabs his hand and squeezes it, tipping his face up for Sokka to lean down and kiss him. “I like that I did that to you without even moving. That's _hot_.”  
  
“Yeah?” Sokka smoothes sweat-damp hair back from his forehead and kisses him again, and Zuko relaxes into his touch with a sigh. “It was seeing you that did it, I think. Knowing you were getting off that quickly just by blowing me. How could that _not_ do it for me, y'know?”  
  
Zuko hums and goes to snuggle into his side, but there's a knock at the door into the corridor.  
  
“That was quick.” Sokka rolls off the bed with a sigh and reaches for the robe again, coming back a moment later with a tray. Green tea with a small bowl of honey.  
  
Zuko only asks specifically for honey in his tea when he knows his throat is shot from blowing Sokka, and sometimes both he and Sokka forget to ask for it. The order he'd overhead a few minutes earlier hadn't included any.  
  
“They know exactly what we're doing, don't they?” Sokka says after Zuko points this out, resigned, and Zuko snorts.  
  
“Of course they do. We're not _quiet_. And all the guards who work shifts outside our rooms get double pay.”  
  
“Hazard pay?”  
  
Zuko almost drops the honey that he's carefully adding to his tea. “I mean, _yes_ , but you don't have to say it like _that_.”  
  
Sokka carefully unwinds the ribbon from Zuko's throat and kisses along the line of where it had been, coiling it to leave beside the bed. “Stop worrying and drink your tea, sweetheart, or someone is going to ask if you're sick during your meetings again.”  
  
Zuko has voluntarily taken days of bedrest rather than explain to the healer that his sore throat doesn't mean he's sick. He drinks his tea.  
  
Later, cleaner and warmer and with Zuko curled against his chest, Sokka says, “You know, what you were saying about reminders - I think I finally get why the tribe does gifts. Betrothal gifts, courting gifts, whatever you want to call it. We don't really do _weddings_ in the south, but when two people are courting and want to make it official, they make gifts. Something that can be used or worn almost every day. A new parka or set of furs, jewellery, a weapon. The north only does betrothal necklaces from a man to a woman, but I think our way is better. You get to wear or use something every day that your beloved made for you, that shows how much they love you, and-” He traces his fingertips along Zuko's throat. “I don't think a random piece of ribbon I bought quite measures up to the standards the tribe expects, but I suppose it's got the same meaning behind it.”  
  
Zuko props his chin on Sokka's chest, looking up at him. “Is this your way of saying that you really _do_ want us to get married - at least, Fire Nation standards of married - instead of just talking about it?”  
  
They've already made arrangements, behind the scenes, for what that might look like. Sokka splitting his time between his tribe and his- His _husband_ , holy fuck. What they'd have to do for him to still have a job but not look like he was getting undue favour from the Fire Nation. What that would mean for Zuko's bloodline.  
  
What they haven't talked about is _when_.  
  
“Yeah,” Sokka says, sounding a bit surprised at Zuko asking so bluntly but mostly sounding obscenely soft and fond. “Yeah, I- I do. I don’t have a gift ready right now for you or anything, but… Yeah. I want that for us.” He hesitates for a moment. “Are you- I mean, do you? Want that?”  
  
Zuko does his damnedest to prove that he _does_ , and he’s fairly sure he succeeds.  
  
On the other hand, his morning meetings find him contending with both a sore throat and sleep deprivation, because now he needs to make the most perfect betrothal gift possible. While Sokka lives in the palace with him. Surrounded by guards and servants who are _guaranteed_ to gossip.  
  
How the _fuck_ does he even begin.  
  
It turns out to be easier than he'd expected. He's saved by, of all things, a letter from Piandao requesting that Sokka come try some new weapon or another, as one of the few people Piandao knows who is trained in the fighting styles of mutiple nations. It has an invitation to Zuko too, if he has enough free time, but he takes one look at his schedule for the next couple of weeks and declines with a sigh.  
  
His bed is big and cold and empty without Sokka in it, but at least he has something to keep himself occupied.  
  
Zuko works his fingers to the bone - or at least it feels that way - trying to get this finished between meetings and before Sokka comes back. He suddenly has a lot more respect for the people who use their firebending for precision work and welding. Attempting to soften and mould metal without melting and warping it is far more difficult than he'd expected.  
  
But he is _not_ going to get someone else to do this for him. The most he acquiesces to is asking one of his guards, the daughter of a former navy welder, to give him tips on how best to work the metals together.  
  
Sokka is back in the palace almost two weeks to the day since he had left, laughingly dragging Zuko back to their rooms to press him up against the door and kiss him senseless. Zuko barely manages to get them both to the bed before Sokka's hands are on him, not even bothering to fully strip him, and Zuko hitches one leg up over Sokka's hip and falls into the old familiar rhythm and buries his face in the crook of his neck to whisper _I missed you so fucking much_. It's clearly mutual.  
  
Sokka pulls him closer once they're done and wiped down again, Zuko's meetings already cancelled for the rest of the afternoon. “Being without you in the Fire Nation sucks,” he says into Zuko's hair, still damp with sweat. “At least back south I have things to distract me, all the kids who want to play with me. Anywhere else in the Fire Nation, I just end up thinking how much better it would be if you were with me.”  
  
“The feeling's mutual,” Zuko mumbles against his neck. “Meetings. No pretty boyfriend to stare at. Boring.”  
  
“More productive?”  
  
Zuko tilts his head up to kiss Sokka's jaw. “Mm. No. Ended up daydreaming instead.” He's not going to tell Sokka what he was daydreaming about, though. Not yet. “How was Master Piandao?”  
  
“Good! He's good. Doing great.”  
  
“Okay, what's going on?” Zuko squirms free from Sokka's grasp enough to look up at him properly. “That's how you answered when I asked about your training, as well.”  
  
“Okay, I was going to show you in the morning, but I can't wait-” Sokka wriggles out of bed, still naked except for his untied tunic, and bounces - _bounces_ , Zuko swears, this is not hyperbole - across to his bags.  
  
Zuko sits up, letting the silk sheets pool around his waist. “Sokka, what-”  
  
“Look what I made you!” Sokka launches himself back onto the bed, box in his hands, and Zuko's brain- Well. Kind of freezes a little bit.  
  
_Made?_  
  
He opens the box, still resting in Sokka's hands, and- A necklace. Soft leather, the same cobalt blue as the slightly tattered, faded ribbon at his bedside. A charm of midnight black, etched with a mingled flame and wave that Zuko can only see if he angles it just right against the firelight.  
  
He's not sure what his face is saying, but- When he looks back up at Sokka, he looks fucking _terrified_.  
  
“Zuko? Baby, what did I- Did I read it wrong? Were we not-”  
  
“No, no!” Fuck, no, that's not what he means- Zuko scrambles out of bed, almost tripping over the hem of his own unfastened robe on the way, and drops to his knees to grab the box out from under the bed. “No, I just, while you were gone I- And I haven't had time to talk to your dads, or plan how I was going to give you-”  
  
Sokka freezes, one hand halfway to the box and the other still clutching his own. “Wait, should I- Did I need to talk to Uncle? Oh shit, did I need to plan a, a whole _thing_ , did I fuck this up-”  
  
“No!” Zuko throws caution to the wind, drops his box on the bed, and lunges forward to catch Sokka's face between his hands, kissing him hard. “No, you didn't - I mean, technically you're supposed to talk to the parents or, well, to my uncle, but- It's _Uncle_. We both know what he'd say. And- Well, I thought I would plan something nice and then give you- But this is nice too. This is good.”  
  
“So I did fuck up,” Sokka mumbles against the side of Zuko's head, burying his face in his hair. “I didn't- We don't _plan_ stuff like this, back home. You already know we've talked about it. That was the decision. This was just...making it public. You use my gift - or wear it, I guess - to show other people that you've accepted. The other stuff, the talking - _that_ was the stuff for us.” He leans into the way Zuko combs his fingers through his hair, falling loose from its tie. “I guess normally you wouldn't be living together before you gave someone a gift, because you wanted to prove to the rest of the tribe that it was serious before you started living together, but it's not-”  
  
“It's okay,” Zuko soothes, scritching his nails against Sokka's scalp, stroking his hair in the way that always makes him sleepy. “It's _okay_. I still love it, and I still love that this is how you gave it to me. Just us. Here. I was going to do it maybe in the gardens but- There'd be guards, if I did. I like that it was just us, together, like this. Okay?” Sokka nods against his shoulder. “Although I don't much like that you pre-empted me,” Zuko teases, getting the words out as quickly as possible so that Sokka knows he's joking and doesn't freeze up mid-sentence. “I thought I was taking advantage of you being gone with Piandao, but you went to go do this, didn't you?”  
  
He recognises that black stone-that-isn't-stone, from Sokka's sword and Toph's armband. Sokka's talked before about how he believes that the meteor was sent by Yue, at a time when he really needed something to believe in. Spirits, he must be the only person in the world to have a betrothal gift that was literally given by the spirits - and that Sokka had worked something so precious into his gift-  
  
Zuko presses his lips to Sokka's temple again. “Can I- I mean, can you put it on me? Before I give you yours?”  
  
Sokka's hands are trembling as he loops it around Zuko's neck, and Zuko holds it in place as he ducks his head for Sokka to sweep his hair out of the way and fasten the catch.  
  
“If it gets grabbed,” Sokka says, fumbling with it. “The catch will break before the leather does. I designed it so it should be really easy to replace if it breaks, but it shouldn't unless you put some force on it. For, y'know. Assassinations.”  
  
Spirits, Zuko hates that _assassins_ have to be a consideration in gifts from his boyfriend - from his betrothed? - but he supposes he asked for it, being Fire Lord and all. He lifts one hand to the hollow of his throat, feeling the cold rock-metal warm rapidly under his touch, and lifts his head to see Sokka staring.  
  
“Spirits, you in blue,” he says softly, then blushes dark enough to see in the dim light. “Do you like the carving? It took _forever_. It has to represent the two of us so I had to go with the obvious, but I have reject ideas in the bottom of my bag-” He's barely taken his eyes off how the leather frames Zuko's throat, but now he does, grinning widely. “I did have one carved that took forever, but dad vetoed it because apparently it wouldn't be _fitting_ for the Fire Lord to have a choker saying _That's rough, buddy_.”  
  
Zuko can't hold back the snort of laughter. “You _didn't_.”  
  
“I did! It's in my bag, I'll get it in the morning. I said I'd still give it to you.”  
  
Zuko leans forward to kiss him again then pauses. “Wait, your dad?”  
  
“Yeah, him and Bato both met me at Shu Jing. Didn't trust me to make a sensible betrothal gift on my own, I guess.” He drops a kiss on the tip of Zuko's nose. “Once we'd had the conversation, I wrote to them and said what I'd be doing. They were waiting for Katara to meet them there and then heading down here - maybe here by tomorrow?”  
  
Zuko realises he's touching his necklace again - Agni above, he won't be able to keep his hands off it. “When he gets back to the South Pole, he'll have a letter asking for his blessing waiting for him, then. Was it strange having your dads meet Piandao?”  
  
“Yeah, and the fact that they actually got on? Really well? And are, like, going to be keeping in touch? It's weird.”  
  
The fact that aged sixteen they'd both quietly commiserated over embarrassing crushes on their swordmaster was a secret just between the two of them, thank you very much.  
  
“Can I look at mine?” Sokka is bouncing in place on the bed, which quite frankly looks ridiculous given he's sitting cross-legged with an open tunic, so Zuko ushers them both up to sit at the head of the bed with the covers around their waists then opens his box. Sokka stares, wide-eyed. “You _made_ these?”  
  
A new headpiece of silver highlighted with gold, because Zuko knows that whenever he wears a topknot he complains about only being able to buy gold and keeps forgetting to commission a piece in silver. A new pommel for his space sword, with a design of Water Tribe waves rather than the lotus design he'd made in disguise under Piandao's tutelage. Earrings, for the piercings Zuko knows by heart - elaborate dangling pieces with the sparkly stones that catch Sokka's eye every time they're in the marketplace, small cuffs that will hug his ear when they're training. Zuko's favourite, a dragon of carefully woven wire in silver and gold, that should hook through each piercing in turn to curl up around the shell of his ear.  
  
They'd been _hell_ to make, but he thinks the look on Sokka's face is worth it.  
  
Sokka blinks down at the box, then up at Zuko again. “You made- But _how_ -”  
  
Zuko holds up his hands to the candlelight - the red of fresh scalds along his fingertips, the burst blisters from twisting and pinching the wires - and Sokka carefully takes them and kisses each finger in turn.  
  
“Zuko. _Baby_. These are _gorgeous_.”  
  
“I'm pretty shit at making stuff,” Zuko says, shrugging. “Pampered prince and all that. But I _can_ melt metal, so.”  
  
“Holy fuck,” Sokka mutters, sifting through and pulling out the smaller earrings. “How did you even- Actually, don't answer that, I don't want to know how many all-nighters you pulled doing this.” He works his own earrings free and loops the new cuffs in. “These are small enough to sleep in, right?”  
  
The candlelight catches them as he turns his head, turning the silver wires gold and setting the gold ones aflame, and Zuko is suddenly so in love it _hurts_.  
  
It's midday when they emerge from their rooms to the news that Hakoda and Bato have arrived, ferried in by Aang and Katara on Appa.  
  
Zuko takes advantage of his lack of meetings - a couple of his favourite advisors, apparently forewarned by Sokka, have already cleared his schedule for the day - to wear his hair in a messy braid that Sokka does for him and to abandon his more formal robes in favour of a loose tunic with a deep-v neckline, scooping low enough that Sokka is fixated even without the way it perfectly frames his necklace.  
  
Sokka, meanwhile, has carefully sorted through his gifts to be able to wear as many as possible - scraping his hair back into a scruffy topknot with his two braids hanging loose at one temple, now with a couple of the smaller earrings woven into the braids above the beads, the dragon that spent the better part of a week destroying Zuko's hands coiling around the opposite ear.  
  
“Does it look good?” he had asked, flushing dark, and Zuko had had to kiss him stupid before he said something mortifyingly sappy.  
  
Now he's the one blushing, Sokka's arm tight around his waist, as they step into the dining room and Bato and Hakoda's eyes snap straight to the necklace - which is fair enough, since they had presumably watched Sokka forge it - and then to his own gifts that Sokka is wearing. Aang bounces up from the table and straight into their arms, despite being taller than the both of them now, and babbles about how happy he is, and Zuko accepts hugs from both Bato and Hakoda and flushes at the quiet _Impressive work, you did well_ from the latter, and laughs as Katara amusedly notes that she would never have expected they'd end up _here_.  
  
“I'll admit,” Hakoda says. “Maybe it's because I'd never met Zuko before and didn't have the same background, but I could kind of tell from the moment of that prison break.”  
  
“We weren't even _together_ then,” Sokka protests, and Zuko wriggles closer under his arm and feels all warm and _fuzzy_ when he sees how Sokka is idly running his finger up and down the curve of the dragon's back. “You can't say you knew before _we_ knew.”  
  
“I think he kind of can,” Zuko says, tugging lightly at one of Sokka's braids. “It took us long enough to get our acts together. I think most people knew before we did.”  
  
Somewhere in the middle of lunch, Aang eyes Zuko's necklace again. “So, uh- Why a necklace, Sokka? The scrolls I read said that betrothal necklaces are always a Northern thing.”  
  
Katara hums quietly in agreement. “I'll be honest, I was wondering the same thing.”  
  
Sokka gestures wildly with his free hand, the one not clinging to Zuko. “Well, what _else_ was I going to make that he can wear every day? Clothes? He's got official robes. Something for his hair? He's got a _crown!_ And apparently it's bad form for the Fire Lord to carry weapons, even though he _is_ a weapon all on his own, so I couldn't make us matching space swords - although, baby, that reminds me. There's probably enough meteorite left for you to work some into dual dao, if you come with me next time.”  
  
“Don't say _next time_ ,” Zuko protests. “Like you didn't tell my secretary to _deliberately_ cram my schedule so I couldn't come last time.”  
  
“Plan guy,” Sokka says smugly, planting a kiss on the top of his head, then blinks a couple of times and spins to face Aang. “Wait, why were _you_ reading scrolls on Water Tribe betrothal traditions?”  
  
In the ensuing chaos of Katara trying to suppress her fits of giggles and Aang blushing _crimson_ and trying to defend himself and both Bato and Hakoda forcing down their grins to play the role of protective father, Zuko noses into the curve of Sokka's neck and trails kisses along the line of his jaw.  
  
“Well done coming up with that excuse,” he murmurs in Sokka's ear as he reaches it, catching one of the new earrings between his teeth and tugging lightly and grinning at Sokka's shiver. “Instead of telling anyone why you _really_ decided to give me a necklace.”  
  
“It's not _entirely_ an excuse,” Sokka protests softly, biting his lip as Zuko, mostly shielded from view by Sokka's own body, teasingly nips at the shell of his ear again. “I didn't have many other options.”  
  
Zuko hums, shifting down again to suck lightly at that spot right at the curve of his jaw, and abruptly remembers where they are and who they're with at a sudden “ _Gross!_ Sokka, _spirits_ , get you and your boyfriend a room if you're going to be doing that at the _table_ -”  
  
“Zuko is my _betrothed_ ,” Sokka says loftily. “And you are in _his_ house, so-”  
  
A minute or two later, when everyone seems to have made the collective decision to ignore everything that the two of them are up to, Sokka turns his head to press a light kiss against Zuko's temple.  
  
“But also, yeah. You're right.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“My secret reasons for giving you a necklace.” Sokka hooks one finger under the soft leather, right at the hollow of Zuko's throat, and grins at the way it makes him shiver and clutch at Sokka's thigh under the table. “Being able to do this whenever I like. Just in case you need any more of a reminder that you're mine, sweetheart-” He reels him in for a kiss, smiling against his lips as Zuko melts into him. “And that I'm _yours_.”


End file.
